Tag Archives: process

Unexpected Gifts

The weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas can be a bit of a scramble. However, two things brought me an extra measure of cheer this week, lifting me above my to-do lists.

First, this interview with Joy Spontak in the December issue of the Across Roads Center for the Arts newsletter (conducted and transcribed by my multi-talented friend, Adrianna Benson). The following quote from the interview resonated with the way I like to work too, and I love the notion that Joy consciously uses this approach outside her studio as well:

“One of the things I’ve learned about my own process is that it is a conversation between you and whatever (piece) you are doing. You do something to it, it suggests something to you, and you have to think about it to move on with the piece/process. Thinking about how you’ll work this process; feeling, changing, working it past how you originally intended it, because things change. I’ve tried to apply this process to my life.”

Her point coincides nicely with one of the books I’m reading now: Breaking the Rules of Watercolor by Shirley Trevena. Trevena stresses that she prefers to leave her options open while she paints. To paraphrase, she found that “by only half-painting objects or leaving white space” she could postpone decisions, often finding that she is rewarded by holding back. What she leaves out can end up becoming as interesting as the areas she has painted, in essence making the finished work greater than the sum of its parts.

The other completely unexpected treat this week is that my ‘Tres Chic’ amaryllis is blooming… again. When bringing my houseplants inside for the winter in early October, I discovered a bonus: two of my amaryllises had formed new flower buds while they were still out on the porch. They bloomed in mid-October so I figured they were finished. But now they are both going for a second showing, an unexpected and welcome gift during a dark and wet November week.

Do any of you know how these plants managed to get in their dormant time without an extended period of darkness? (I have 3 others that seem to be following a more normal schedule). I guess the cooler temps must have done the trick, but whatever the explanation, I’m grateful for the burst of color.

The Fine Line

After last week’s post, my good friend and art buddy Dianne Shullenberger brought up a good question: “In digging deeper and deeper into work is it sometimes bordering on overworking?”

After thinking about it for a bit, this was my response: “I think there is a fine line between just right and overdone – & one that Gerald Auten recognized we were shying away from by perhaps under-evolving our drawings. My take on the subject is that we just have to be brave and forge ahead. I find when I push beyond my comfort zone exciting discoveries can be made. But as you suggest, sometimes one can overdo it – and then you have to chalk it up to experience.”

With time and practice I find I am becoming more competent at judging how far to push a piece, although the key qualifier in that statement is “more”. There is no substitution for doing the work, and as you make more work, these mysteries begin to clarify — don’t you think? This article from ARTNews illustrates that the answer to how far to push a piece is as individual as each artist.

Slow and Steady

This week has been full of experimentation, building on what I’ve learned so far. The process is similar to the progressive states of print-making, with each step producing unexpected discoveries that bring me a little bit closer to where I’m hoping to go.

Following last week’s layered drawings, I began by painting both a positive and a negative image on a piece of raw silk.

Using watercolor pencils and silk organza, a second layer creates the “X”. The idea to use complementary colors wasn’t so successful.

Staying within an analogous color zone was a smarter move.

I’ve had stitching much on my mind, trying to figure out how to integrate it so as to enhance the idea of a positive/negative dichotomy without overwhelming the under-layers and the piece as a whole.

I have been envisioning a much more intensive layering of stitching rather than these simple lines of running stitches. But for this particular rendition/sketch, the simpler lines seemed right. Although hard to see in this photo, a subtle variation of thread color leads the eye in and out of the shapes of both the plants and the “X”, beginning to touch on my goal of an uneasy sense of fluidity between fore- and backgrounds.

It’s time to sit with this for a while so I can figure out how to give stitch a more assertive voice. This example is only about 6″ square. I think working larger will help me figure it out.

❖

Speaking of “X’s”: before I let you go I want to share this TED Talk by Jamie ‘Mr. X Stitch’ Chalmers with you. I’m sure that those of you who also work with needle and thread will nod your head, appreciating his good humored articulation of truths we all understand so well. And for those of you who may not quite get the attraction to working in this medium, this short talk may make a believer of you. If you’re interested in learning more, here’s his website.

Back to the Drawing Board

Not much for you to read this busy week — instead I’m relying mostly on images to share my thoughts and progression.

I’ve continued to explore along the theme of positive and negative, but have stepped briefly away from painting on silk, reverting instead to pencil on Dura-Lar.

I felt like I needed to move back a bit, trusting that it would ultimately help to push me forward.

In doing so, the complexity of color is removed in favor of value alone.

I like the way the translucency of the Dura-Lar facilitates the idea of positive vs negative in terms of depth, but by using layers that are so obviously flat.

It’s another way to elicit the visual shift between image and surface that I find so fascinating.

Considering Negative Space

This past winter was crazy-busy and as we march toward summer I am hoping to manage a change of pace to recharge my batteries. I’ll bet you are too.

Old habits die hard and I can’t escape the rhythm of the academic year, at least psychologically. I am savoring the idea of summer’s less regimented schedule in the same way I know I will look forward to falling back into a set routine come September.

Things in the studio seem to be moving more slowly lately, probably because of the added distractions of the garden, the higher temps, and the beautiful weather. But despite the fact that these things compete for the limited hours in my day, they also serve to feed the creative fire.

2015 ©Elizabeth Fram In process

When I’m in the garden, kneeling low to the ground and weeding around the new growth, my viewpoint is concentrated on the two-foot square in front of me, focusing on details rather than a more comprehensive view. I start to see the leaves of young plants abstractly – flattened into the space around them. What I see is transformed into a formal arrangement of shapes in a way that won’t be as obvious once the plants fill out and begin to rub shoulders.

As a result, I have begun consider negative space, both physically – which I am investigating in new work, and conceptually – as it relates to time & each day’s agenda.

2015 ©Elizabeth Fram In process

Visually, I am embarking on an exploration of a shifting back and forth between positive and negative shapes, using color, and eventually stitch, to orchestrate a dialogue between the two. In the same light, summer’s more relaxed schedule widens areas of “negative space” on our calendars; time that can be filled with restorative activities that soothe and rejuvenate the weary sense of ‘push’ that marks the rest of the year.

2015 ©Elizabeth Fram In process

My aspirations are always broader than what I can actually accomplish, but I hope the next months will allow me, in addition to pushing forward in the studio, to delve into watercolor, be adventurous with recipes that highlight the bounty from the garden, and have the opportunity to sit on the porch, enjoy the breeze and read a good book.

That said, since I am always on the lookout for a good book recommendation, here are a half dozen that I hope might bring some pleasure to your “negative space” this summer. They are a mixture of art, gardens – and sometimes both together.

A Bigger Message: Conversations with David Hockney -Martin Gayford
The Samurai’s Garden -Gail Tsukiyama
Everyday Matters -DannyGregory
Strapless: John SInger Sargent and the Fall of Madame X -Deborah Davis
Museum: Behind the Scenes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art -Danny Danziger
A Bowl of Olives, On Food and Memory -Sara Midda

Getting Out of Dodge

Last week we spent the better part of 5 days in Asheville, NC. Knowing that the arts are a strong part of its identity, I have wanted to go there for some time. I wasn’t disappointed in any way.

Facade ornament, Biltmore Estate

Although happy for the change of scene, I also found many comforting similarities to VT — from being surrounded by mountains and plenty of green space, to the excellent farm-to-table restaurants that value local food & brew as much as we do here.

View from the loggia of the Biltmore mansion

Asheville’s River Arts District, which boasts more than 150 artists, sits beside the French Broad River, and is a vibrant area of artist-owned studio spaces spread out through renovated mills & warehouses. Among others, I was able to visit the studio of BZ Designs and speak briefly with Barbara Zaretsky, who uses natural dyes and clamped resist in her lovely work.

There are also numerous galleries in the center of town. My favorite was Blue Spiral 1 with its current exhibition entitled “Structure”, a group show of five artists who all have a connection to the Penland School of Crafts.

I was immediately taken by Rob Pulleyn’s ceramic vessels. They are substantial and sturdy, yet any first impression of “chunkiness” is belied upon closer inspection. Each piece possesses a matte surface that is marked with delicacy and intricacy, paired with earthy colors that, while adding to the sense of solidity, also provide a suitable ground for the beauty of these richly detailed exteriors. Pulleyn’s skill orchestrates a finely-tuned balancing act between structure and surface. I wasn’t the only one impressed, as indicated by the numerous little red dots on the accompanying ID tags.

Rob Pulleyn “Mime” Terra sigillata, stains, oxides 9 x 11 x 5 inches

I knew his name sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until I looked him up afterward that I had one of those slap-your-forehead moments, realizing Pulleyn had founded Fiberarts Magazine and later Lark Books, both based in Asheville.

Pulleyn writes that he had concentrated on the materials and techniques of textiles for more than thirty years, but when he began to explore clay in the 1990’s he found an immediate affinity. His artist statement is enlightening; he doesn’t take himself too seriously and his thoughts regarding self-imposed restrictions are key. There is much to be learned from the following:

“With each piece, I force myself to do something I’ve never done before: a form, a texture, or a color, for instance. This means each piece is an experiment of sorts. It also means I destroy a lot of evidence, but it keeps the anxiety level sufficiently high and the joy of success addictively sweet.”

Rob Pulleyn “01100″ Terra sigillata, stains, oxides 11 x 15 x 6 in

The most salient point for me, however, is that his decades of experience with fiber have not only informed the beauty and complexity of his vessels’ surfaces, but is still given voice through the language of clay. What a glowing testimonial to the strength of expression that results from the cross-pollination of working across mediums.

Relaxed Presence

This week I came across a very enlightening short interview between James Fallows of The Atlantic and longtime tech executive, Linda Stone. I think you might enjoy it: “The Art of Staying Focused in a Distracting World”.

It resonated with me as I am forever trying to navigate my way through constant distractions. I fully own that I rely increasingly on technology to achieve my goals, but I’m not necessarily happy about it. Reading this piece drilled home yet another reason that I am so grateful to be able to spend a portion of each day thinking about and making art.

Even though Stone doesn’t specifically refer to art-making in her theory, I think the process of creation falls within the same framework as the other skills she does mention. It too allows and encourages one to be fully engaged, while at the same time promoting a deep sense of relaxation.

I made a promise to myself last January that I would try to draw every day. As the weeks have turned into months, I’ve come to realize that this daily practice, usually anywhere from 10 to 45 minutes, not only gives me a chance to work on and improve my capabilities, but quite unexpectedly has turned out to be what one might term something akin to a form of yoga.

By approaching this exercise as a “practice”, there is no pressure to come out with a polished finished product. The reward is in merely showing up. While paying close attention to the physical details of whatever I’m drawing (in yoga terms, being “mindful”), an interesting by-product is that the process is incredibly restful and restorative. I’m reaping benefits on a number of levels. For instance, I am making new discoveries in the reciprocity of mark-making between my drawings and my textile work. I am seeing improvement and gaining confidence in my draughtsmanship; unsuccessful attempts don’t discourage me because I know I’ll be back at it the next day. I get a true sense of accomplishment in knowing that I am following through on my New Year’s promise. And finally, my time spent drawing is an oasis that has no bearing on how the rest of my day turned out — in the studio or otherwise… it just is.

That’s a pretty satisfactory return on a very modest investment. I encourage you to try it.

(Com)Mission Accomplished

This week I am feeling a satisfactory sense of accomplishment having completed, delivered, and installed a commission that has been in the works since July. I am now enjoying the luxury of being able to reflect on the process.

Drifting Solace, 24" x 46" ©2015 Elizabeth Fram

It has been a bit of a challenge to figure out how to weave this endeavor in with everything else that the past 6 months has encompassed, but the stretch was worth it.

Drifting Solace, Detail ©2015 Elizabeth Fram

First and foremost, I count myself tremendously lucky to have been able to work with a delightful and interesting client. My long-ago days in free-lance advertising and illustration taught me that is not always the case — to such an extent that I have since shied away from commissions. But when approached this time, I was so interested in trying to capture what she was looking for, that it seemed the time had come to step up to see where things might lead.

It has been a wonderful learning experience that has kept my feet humbly on the ground while also providing a fertile environment for growth. The following list includes several take-aways that come to mind immediately; I’m sure more will surface with time.

1. The importance of listening attentively, always with an ear for clues in client feedback for ways that the piece she is ultimately hoping for can dovetail with my working methods and means of bringing an idea to life. The optimal goal being that we both enjoy the process, as well as the end result.

Fabric Palette

2. Learning to plan ahead and to log my time. (And coming to the realization that every- thing always seems to take half again as long as I had originally thought).

Daily Work Log

3. The importance of “deep work” (as Cal Newport defines it) in making concrete strides.

Initial Fabric Placement

4. How to organize my days so that I can move forward steadily while honoring other commitments that were already in place and certainly weren’t going to disappear.

Organizing pieces for vertical strips

5. Appreciation for the boundaries that someone else’s vision puts in place – and in turn, the freedom that comes from that narrowing of overall approach. Structure can be a good thing.

Strips with piping inserted

6. To be fearless in experimentation.

Left Side

Right side dyed and painted; two sides brought together for first time

Embroidery in progress

Embroidery detail

I have gotten a lot out of this experience and the many ways it has helped me to stretch, bolstered by the freedom that my client allowed me along the way. But ultimately, two things stand out as highlights in the culmination of the project. The first was seeing her face, absorbed in her own thoughts as she looked at the finished piece on her wall, finally there ‘in the flesh’ after months of patiently waiting.

In Situ

And the second being the feeling, as I walked away from her apartment, that I had played my part in connecting ideas that hold significance for her with a tangible expression of those important thoughts and memories. As mentioned in quoting Salman Rushie in last week’s post, it felt like the universe had opened just a bit more.

The Power of Persistence

I have a dear friend who, for numerous years now, has sent us an amaryllis for the holidays. It’s always different and always spectacular. Each season I tried in vain to tend the bulb past its winter’s bloom with the hope of carrying it through to another year. But busy family life, with a couple of household moves added to the mix, thwarted my meager attempts; every year I failed.

Until 2 years ago.

Late in December, after the requisite weeks of darkness in our cool basement pantry, I brought the previous year’s gift bulb upstairs to rest on top of the refrigerator, hoping its warmth would coax new growth. Periodic checks showed absolutely no progress. So late that January I finally reached for the pot fully expecting to heave its contents into the compost. Imagine how thrilled I was to discover a fresh sprout of green emerging from the papery brown folds at the top of the bulb.

And so it goes with work in the studio and the resulting ups and downs.

There are many hours that go into the pieces I diligently construct. Along the way there can be numerous false starts, often accompanied by plenty of discouragement. However, as my artist friend Dianne Shullenberger wisely counsels: despite the frustrations, we continue for the joy of making and because stopping isn’t an option. How true. I have come to learn that most of the time, by steadily pushing on, a breakthrough will eventually reveal itself.

In the next weeks, I’m going to revisit the making of Ulysses’ Wave, a piece that absorbed innumerable stops and starts, plenty of doubts, and finally satisfaction once I found its rightful path.

Sometimes the stars align and a piece comes into being easily and quickly. This is not one of those works.
But that’s okay – and maybe more than okay. This certainly isn’t the first time I’ve struggled and it won’t be the last. But with each new challenge I build a bit more confidence that in the end I will find my way to resolution.

And, as this amaryllis reminds me, there is power in persistence.

Lost in the Stitch

Why do we choose to work with specific media?

It’s a question that often crosses my mind when I think longingly of how much more quickly my work would go with the swoop of a brush.
But once I get the needle and thread in hand, I keep coming back to how much I enjoy the process, and the fact that there is something in the finished visual and textural effects of hand-stitching that grabs hold of my imagination and won’t let go.

With a collection of thread that is vast and varied*, it is a joy to be immersed in so much color. As I work, I feel like I am virtually floating through the dyed/painted silk ground, each stitch punctuated by the comfortable rhythm of “needle-up, needle-down”. I can become engrossed in the process for hours.

In addition, I have always been most attracted to art where the artist has, in a sense, left a trail. I love what might be considered visual footprints — splashes of paint or the hide and seek of a drawn line as it traces and smudges in and out of the contours of a figure. These unpolished marks give me a chance to follow along with the artist and vicariously share in the process.

So as I finish a day’s work and look back over the fields of texture and color created by innumerable hand-stitches, I feel like the journey of the piece as it is coming into being, is laid out as clearly as a map.

In essence, process and result are the driving forces behind why I work with needle and thread. And in that light, I hope the thousands of stitches that capture me as I work, will also pull viewers into my finished pieces, not just through the image alone, but by incurring a feeling of connection with the making of it.

Wishing you all Happy Holidays…

*If you live near Stowe, VT be sure to check out The Wooden Needle for its beautiful and wide selection of silk, wool and cotton thread.